


Here Comes Today

by schwertlilie



Series: Starts With One [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire Slayer, Dehumanization, Exorcisms, Fae Magic, Gen, Religious Discussion, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3565271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schwertlilie/pseuds/schwertlilie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the hunter trio ended up on vampire!Matthew's trail in the first place, leading up to the beginning of SWO.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Comes Today

**21 days**

 

"Sunt mala quae libas," Francis said as he tapped the hawthorn stake with his mallet, driving it up under the vampire's ribs. "Ipse venena bibas."

Arthur made an irritated noise from the outside of the circle. "Quit your papist superstition and just finish it, will you?"

"Amen." Francis watched it gurgle. He must have caught a lung again; he'd have to review his anatomy text when he returned home. "Many would say the same thing about your chanting, rosbif."

"My chanting works. And my drawing, and my circle-making, and my talismans. I've never seen your archangel hold off an angry bloodsucker."

"Ah, you know the Vade Retro Satana? And here I thought you were a godless heathen."

Alfred leaned on his shovel. "Nah, just uncivilised."

"You little-" Arthur took a breath, a deep one, and Francis smirked.

"There is no reason say Saint Michael _didn't_ intervene. Perhaps he pointed its attention toward our Alfred-bait, or stopped it from noticing the trap circle until it was too late." Francis poked it with his foot, and it twitched. A little longer, then.

"And maybe we simply know how to do our jobs." Arthur tapped his finger against his crossed arms. "Alfred, tell him he's being an idiot."

"Dude, I'm an agnostic. Do you _really_ want me to answer that?"

"It wasn't a question. And you wear a cross, for crissakes."

The air above the circle flashed purple, once, and a light breeze touched Francis' neck. One down, too many more to go.

"It was a gift." Alfred walked to the carcass, and began rolling it toward the prepared fire pit with his shovel. "And a little extra luck never hurts, hey?"

"Superstitious idiots," Arthur muttered, before his attention was captured by something on his left shoulder.

Francis removed his surgical gown, booties and shoulder-length rubber gloves - God bless veterinary supply stores - and dropped them onto the kindling. "Says the man who still believes in unicorns."

"We kill vampires for a living," he said absently, bending to dig through his tool bag. "Why would unicorns be any more impossible?"

Francis traded a glance with Alfred at the non-reaction; the other shrugged and tipped the carcass into the hole.

"What's wrong, caterpillar?"

"Plym said the wind is shifting, and we'll need to disperse the smoke column ourselves." He pulled out a wooden bowl, some dried leaves, and a bottle of water. "Francis, would you drive the car up?"

"It'll leave tire tracks."

"I need to be up above the ground for this to work." He looked at Francis, away. "... Please."

"All right. Alfred, keys?"

"Jus' a sec." He shifted the shovel to his left hand, dug in his jacket pocket with his right. "There ya go," he said, tossing the key ring to Francis.

"Merci. I'll be back."

 

An hour later, sitting on the station wagon's roof with Arthur and Alfred while watching the carcass burn, Francis decided he wanted salad for supper. Perhaps with a spiced goat cheese on top.

 

 

**6 days**

 

Alfred flipped to the new screen, grinned. "Heya, Gilbert."

The albino grinned back. "Yo, awesome-bastard. All rested up from your cross-country trip?"

"If I never see poached salmon again, it'll be too soon." With a few clicks he saved and quit his game, leaving him with the video feed. "Where's Eduard?"

"Helping the old man with his DVD player, so I'm holding down the fort. If I send you the info for your next target, can ya send it on to angry-bastard and horny-bastard? They aren't picking up."

"Yeah, 'cause it's 4 AM here."

"Oh. Right." Gilbert shrugged. "Whatever, you're here now. An ally caught sight of a vamp not eight hours from you, followed it to an inter-city bus headed north."

"Got a picture?"

"Yeah yeah, gimme a second. Christ, this file system is weird. And in Estonian. Da-da da-da daaah... There we go, sending."

He clicked "yes" to accept the transfer. "How'd you end up manning the desk?"

"Ludwig's off making eyes at Feliciano, Raivis is hunting in Poland, I can actually work a teleconference system- Wait a sec, telephone call."

"Go for it," he said as the file finished downloading. Open, view full-screen. The first page was standard - date, times of the target's actions. It had been found in a park, sitting on a bench and passively hunting. Not getting what it was looking for - and who knew how they chose? - it had gone to an all-night diner, and then the bus station. Good, this informant had remembered to get the bus number and route, it'd make things easier.

"Hey, Ludwig!" Gilbert said from behind the document. "Eduard's busy, but- No, I'm _not_ just watching porn. Yes, I'm doing work - I'm giving Alfred his next target. Al, say hi to Ludwig?"

"Hi Ludwig." He scrolled down, sucked in a breath.

"See? Yes, I'll pass on-"

The second page was photos; the first few were from a distance, of the target "reading" a novel (notes said he hadn't turned a page in twenty minutes), but one made him stop and stare. The target had looked up to answer a passerby and given the informant a perfect view of its face.

"Yeah, whatever. Take care of yourself, baby bro."

It could have been Alfred's face, Alfred's hair if he let it grow out.

"You found the pic, huh?" Gilbert's voice was almost sympathetic; or at least, as close as he ever got. "Threw the old man for a loop when he saw it, it did."

"I can- I can see why."

"Yeah, it's fucking creepy. Hey, can you get webcam footage of your partners when they get a look at it? I'll send you some real beer in exchange."

"There's nothing wrong with American beer."

Gilbert snorted, but let the topic slide. "So, how soon can you be on the road and after it?"

 

 

**4 days**

 

"Sweet!" Alfred said, looking at the exterior of the bus station. "They've got digital security cameras." He threw the end of a power cord up to the front seat. "Plug me in?"

Arthur turned to glare - ineffectually, because Alfred could barely see him above the laptop screen. " _Do_ try to be more careful with that."

"What? S'not like I'll put someone's eye out."

"That's not the-"

"Alfred," Francis cut in, "there's an easier way than calling Eduard."

"I wasn't going to-" He tried to resist the urge to cross his arms. "What is it?"

Francis reached back from the driver's seat, and ruffled Alfred's hair. "He ran away."

"What?"

He gave a long-suffering sigh. "The target is your twin brother, who ran away from home, and you're desperately trying to find him. Tu comprendes?"

"Not a bad idea," Arthur said. "For once."

"That's completely unheroic, guys."

"But it should work."

"Fine." Alfred mussed his hair some more, and grabbed his ratty-comfy sweater. "It's not my fault if it doesn't work."

 

Seven minutes later he opened the car door and sank into the back seat. "You win."

Arthur removed his feet from the dash. "And?"

"And it's easier than pretending to be FBI, or hacking secure networks. Hardeharhar."

Francis smiled at him through the rear-view mirror. "No one's laughing at you, mon cher. Directions?"

"North, again. Came into the depot before dawn, bought a ticket on the all-day bus, and _really_ likes restaurants that serve breakfast the whole day." He passed forward a copy of the route map. "The destination's circled."

 

 

**3 days**

 

Arthur tried to muffle his yawn into his napkin. They'd gotten slightly ahead of the coach the target was riding, at the expense of driving all night. Again. Was it _really_ necessary for Alfred and Francis to be so bright and cheerful after a day like this?

"Miss your beauty sleep, Art?"

Plym giggled.

"I'm not so much of a lout that I can sleep in a moving vehicle." Arthur placed a crumb of scrambled egg on the tablecloth for Plym to eat, on the off-chance it would keep her out of trouble.

"You should learn. You know what they say about sleepy wizards?"

"No."

Alfred paused, mouth full of steak. "Actually, I don't know either."

Francis snorted into his water glass. "You only say that because Gilbert offered you cash for pictures of the rosbif's sleeping face."

"No, that's not only- Wait, how do you know about that?"

He poked at his sandwich. "He made me the same offer, but I suggested you."

"And why was that?" Arthur asked.

"Because you like Alfred better and would be less likely to kill him, of course." Oh, that damned annoying smirking-

As soon this job was over, Arthur was going to curse Francis' precious hair. A vivid green perhaps...

Plym looked up at him, and smiled with too many teeth. _As soon as you wish, Arthur, just tell me what you-_

"Not now," he whispered. She pouted, and turned back to her egg.

He spread more marmalade on his toast, glanced up when he saw Francis freeze. "It's here?"

"Oui."

Alfred took another mouthful of food; Arthur waited.

"Left and behind you, Arthur, about sixty degrees." Francis paused. "And it's already giving its order."

He saw Alfred chance a glance over. "It knows we're here, but not where we are."

Arthur nodded, handed Plym a small piece of toast. "Let me know when it settles down."

"Will do."

Francis dropped his chin to his hand. "I do so enjoy it when they try not to look suspicious."

"I'm curious how it would know." Arthur chased his own mouthful of toast with a sip of tea. "As _we_ are also trying to remain inconspicuous."

"Perhaps it is like a rabbit," Francis offered. "Always aware of danger."

"We're hardly the most dangerous-appearing people around," Arthur said. "Most other targets don't spot us."

"Maybe it has slightly more common sense."

"Arthur? It's still not happy, but you should be good to go."

"Thank you." He plucked a hair from his head, handed it to Plym. She smiled, and carried it over his shoulder and to the vampire. Arthur could feel her weave the magic around the hair, and the hair into the target's blond curls; and he was aware of the vampire's location, just as he would know where his hands were with his eyes closed.

He took out a small sewing pin, and had his finger pricked and ready by the time Plym returned to the table.

Alfred looked away, focused on his cola. "Could you not do that while people are trying to eat?"

"But debts for services rendered should be paid as quickly as possible." He watched Plym lap up the blood, her tiny hands gentle on his skin. "Don't you agree, Francis?"

Francis poked at his sandwich again, and the waitress chose that moment to ask how their meals were; Arthur had to use his best Queen's English accent to convince her that no, he did not need a band-aid, he'd just forgotten to check his blood sugar before supper. Really.

 

 

**1 day**

 

Of _course_ the target would change its habits and hop on an all-night coach instead of staying overnight in a cheap motel.

Of _course_ it would recognise them at its next stop, and go back onto another coach.

Once Alfred had asked the ticket counter for the vampire's destination and they'd decided to beat it to the town but not the depot, of _course_ it would take a taxi from the next-from-last stop to another coach station, and take another coach line in a different direction.

Of _course_ Arthur was woken from his entirely-too-short nap by Plym tugging on his hair.

Of _course_.

He lifted his head from the seat, took a moment to process. To filter out Alfred's choice of music (honky-tonk) and his quiet singing (not as bad as Arthur claimed). Then Plym pulled his hair again, hard.

"Ouch!"

"Wassat?" Alfred asked from the driver's seat.

She didn't dignify Arthur's exclamation with a response, just frowned at him while tugging a chunk of his bangs.

Bangs. Hair.

_Hair._

He reached out along the magic for the vampire, felt it coming closer.. faster than it should have been. "Pull off the freeway."

"You gotta take a piss or something?"

Blast, he couldn't smack the idiot while he was driving. "It turned around. Pull off at the next exit and wait for it to decide where it's heading. ... And don't go to the next exit with shops, it's a waste of petrol."

"Spoilsport."

"Idiot."

Francis picked that moment to snore, and Arthur smiled. _He_ , Arthur could hit.

 

 

**2 hours**

 

"Cher Alfred," Francis murmured, "would you _please_ stop crunching for a moment?"

"Sowwy," he said around a mouthful of potato chips.

Ah, blessed silence, at least from inside the car. Francis turned the directional microphone toward the unit Arthur had pointed to, listened. The target shuffled around, sock feet on carpet, and was ignoring his cell phone. "Someone very much wishes to get in contact with him."

Arthur selected pieces of chalk from his carrying case: blue, white, and yellow. "And he's not picking up?"

"Non. A pity, he won't be able to after tonight."

"Wait a sec." Alfred leaned forward, pulled one of the buds from Francis' ear. "Holy _shit_ , he's still using a default ring tone. Not just a comes-with-the-phone ringtone, the _default_ , set-by-the-company ringtone."

Francis plucked the bud from Alfred's hand. "And that is relevant how?"

"I've seen _five year-olds_ change ringtones. Man, this target is technologically illiterate."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Such big words."

"Shut up, old man." Alfred ruffled through his duffel bag, freshly loaded with supplies from the nearby convenience store. "Just interesting, is all."

Francis tuned out his team mates' bickering with the ease of long practice.

Socks on carpet. Socks on carpet. A flop, like it landed on a bed or chair. Mm, it was probably tired after leading them around for three days, but going to ground was to be its last mistake. He tried not to hum while he listened, though he was looking forward to having this one done with. _Another one bites the dust,_ as Arthur would sometimes sing. Roll. Socks on carpet. Socks on tile. Shower running.

He looked over to Arthur. "It's in the shower."

Arthur nodded, slipped out of the car and diagonally across the parking lot; Alfred huffed, probably upset that Arthur had left in the middle of their not-argument.

Francis could hear him sing under his breath as he drew the wards over the doorway and window, amplified by the microphone. "London Bridge is Falling Down," really? Last time it had been "Scarborough Fair." ... That should not be as endearing as it was. He tracked Arthur around the corner, but lost the sound of his voice when he moved behind the motel. The layout looked standard, and Arthur knew his business.

He returned before the shower stopped, looking pleased with himself. "All taken care of."

"Good." Francis took off the ear buds, pulled his knives and strop from his bags. "Rosbif, I believe you have the first shift tonight?"

Arthur nodded, and Francis set to putting the finishing touches on his knife edges.

 

 

**2 minutes**

 

Alfred chose his next bottle of soda, good old Coca-Cola Classic. None of that "Zero" or diet stuff for him, no siree, soda was meant to have corn syrup and he was damned well going to drink it with corn syrup.

Wow, that sounded kind of badass. Not heroic, necessarily, but badass.

Arthur was paging through one of his books, frowning a little as his tried to catch as much of the light from the streetlight as possible; Francis not-quite-dozed. Alfred watched the door, chin on the back of the front seat.

Mm, sugary caffeine.

He counted the slats on the siding next to the door, up, then down again. He was half-way through his fifth repetition when the door opened.

"Guys!" he hissed.

Arthur looked up, and Francis opened his eyes.

The target looked at the doorway, jeans and hoodie dark against the backlighting, and raised its hand. The hand stopped like it had hit a wall, which Alfred supposed it had, in a way. Then the vampire looked straight at their car, and called:

"Come in and get this over with, eh?"

 

**0 seconds**

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to the [Hetalia Kink Meme](http://hetalia-kink.dreamwidth.org/75473.html?thread=457347025#cmt457347025), June 2010.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> \- <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vade_retro_satana>Vade Retro Santana/that Latin prayer thingie: A prayer to St Michael the Archangel, healer and warrior, and is a medieval Catholic exorcism prayer. (Or so Wiki tells me.) Also called "Get back, Satan." It seemed appropriate.  
> \- And going with the fanon generalisation that Francis is Catholic, Arthur is anti-Catholic, and Alfred is nothing in particular. Yes, Alfred wears a cross in canon, during the naked Christmas Rampage, though I can't recall him _acting_ Christian as such.  
>  \- Strops are used to give a finer edge on blades (like a razor) once they've been sharpened on a whetstone.  
> \- The USA and Canada generally flavour their soft drinks/pop/soda with high fructose corn syrup; large parts of the rest of the world use actual sugar.  
> \- Title is still from "Starts With One" by Shiny Toy Guns, just a different line.


End file.
